


Saving People...

by LadyBecky



Series: Dream Series [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adult Content, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Mental Health Issues, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 05:52:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5405420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBecky/pseuds/LadyBecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuation of "Dream a Little Dream" and "Reality Bites"<br/>You’ve awakened from a coma where a Trickster had you trapped in your mind in an alternative universe. You are trying to understand/remember what is real and what is fake. Dean and Sam want you to stay behind while they hunt down the Trickster who had trapped you. You want to show them you are up for the fight, even though you have your own doubts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saving People...

**Author's Note:**

> I use of the song “Crazy Love” by Jason Manns and Jensen Ackles as inspiration for part of this, so I hope if you haven’t heard it, you'll look it up. It’s really great and Jensen singing is sooo worth it... ;-)  
> Also inspired by a meme prompt that reads: "She won't tell you she loves you, like a normal person... Instead she'll shake her head, smile and call you and idiot. If she calls you an idiot, you are the luckiest man in the world..."  
> Thanks for following the story! I hope y'all are liking it. Remember to leave comments, suggestions, I appreciate them all! ~Becky

  


Dean takes your hand lightly in his, his fingers squeezing yours.

“Stay,” he asks. “Just please… Stay…”

“Dean,” you sigh, looking up into his eyes, seeing the worry there. “I can’t. I can’t just sit here and wait while you two hunt down this Trickster. This is as much my fight as yours, if not more… I am the one it stole a lifetime from…” you scowl.

Sam had found a lead on the creature’s whereabouts, and now they both were trying to talk you out of coming along on the hunt. But you weren’t about to let that happen…

“It stole  _you_  from me,” he tells you. “It stole two whole years from us… and I’m going to make it bleed for that,” his green eyes narrow intensely.

Squeezing his hand back, you meet his gaze. “Sorry tiger. I’m coming along. I can’t exactly be a ‘stay at home hunter’, can I? Either I’m a hunter or I’m not…” 

Dean scowled at he met your eyes, seeing the determination there.

“I say I am… and you aren’t changing my mind…” you warn him.

“ _Neither_  of you,” you turn your head to meet Sam’s eyes now and he gives you a sheepish look.

“I told you she’d be pissed if we tried to do this without her,” Sam said to Dean.

“No.” Dean snapped. “You are not coming with us. You aren’t ready for a hunt. You haven’t even been back on your feet for a week,” he argues.

You raise a brow.

“Do I usually just listen to what you say?” you ask, looking from his frown over to Sam again. Sam chuckled slightly, and Dean turned his glare on his brother. 

“I mean, I’m not completely sure what I remember about my personality, if it is reality or just fake memories from the matrix… but I’m pretty certain I’m not the obedient type…” you mention.

“Christ no…” Sam laughs.

“I was hoping, just this once, you’d listen to reason,” Dean tugged your hand, raising it to his lips. He kissed your knuckles softly. “Please?”

His quiet request had you reconsidering.

But only for a moment.

“Dean,” you sigh once more and step closer to him. “If I’d ever do anything against my nature, it’d be for you…”

He lowers his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and kissing your nose.

“But not today…” he adds his own sigh as you give him a slight smile.

“No.” you respond, shaking your head slightly. “I take it we’ve had conversations like this before,” you add when you see a long suffering look cross his face.

“A few times,” he grunts, moving back, kissing your brow as he releases you from his embrace.

“But just once, I’d like to be on the winning side of it…” he tells you as he turns to leave the room.

You hear him punch a door as the sound carries through the hallway.

 

* * *

 

 

Sam catches her grimace as the noise echoes through the hall.

“He’s just overly worried <y/n> because this will be like it’s the first time you’ve hunted. You don’t remember, so it’s new to you, and he’s worried you’ll get hurt…”

“I know. I understand… and I can see why he’d be- but that’s not going to make me stay behind. If anything, it’s more reason to fight,” she says, seeing the concern in his eyes also.

“You are worried too, Sammy- so why aren’t you trying to stop me?” she asks, her <y/e/c> gaze locking on to his hazel one.

Sam’s eyes wrinkle in a grin. “I know when it’s pointless to argue with you, honey. I can tell when your mind is made up…”

She tilts her head a bit at that revelation. “And Dean can’t?”

He scoffs. “No, he can tell- it’s just that he’s just as stubborn as you are,” Sam smirks. “You two butt heads over almost

everything…”

 

* * *

 

“Hmm. I think I remember that,” you smile softly, looking back towards the hallway where Dean had disappeared. Images of him shouting at you play through your mind, along with the ones of you shouting right back at him… and then making up. A warm blush heats your cheeks…

Sam’s chuckle breaks you out of your reverie. Your grin widens.

“I guess this is the portion of the story where I go chase him down and fight this out…?” you ask, a part of you still uncertain.

“Usually,” he returns your smile. “Sometimes you let him stew awhile…”

You lean back against the desk, crossing your arms over your chest. “Can I ask you a question Sammy?”

“Sure, of course…” Sam stops packing the duffel in front of him. “Shoot…”

“How did I start hunting? How did I meet you two? I can’t remember, and Dean’s been avoiding my questions…” you ask.

Sam’s look turns serious, and he lowers his eyes away from yours.

“There’s a good reason for that,” he tells you. “You don’t talk about your past…” he said quietly. “Dean’s probably hoping you don’t remember…”

He looks back into your eyes.

“Ever…”

“That’s not going to work for me. I need to know.”

 

* * *

 

Sam sees the look in your eyes and sighs heavily, shoving away from the desk. He moves around it, taking you by the hand, leading you over to a couch.

“Here, sit…” he suggests, sitting alongside of you, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. You can tell he’s struggling to find the words to answer your question.

“Sammy,” you give his hand a quick squeeze. “Come on. Spill it…”

He sits back on the couch, wrapping an arm around you, tugging you back against his shoulder. You turn your head a bit, looking up at him.

Your brow wrinkled in uneasiness.

Sam saw the furrow and moved closer, leaning his chin on the crown of your head. “You’re sure you want to hear this?” he asks. He feels your nod as you clear your throat.

“I need to know Sammy,” you say quietly. “I- have this feeling… like, its hovering, somewhere in the back of my mind- and I can’t pull it out… but it’s important. So, yeah… I want to hear it. I need this…”

He could feel your tension, hear the heartache in your words and huffed out a breath.

“Okay, uh… well- you know, you remember my story, right? You said that most of what you knew about us was remembered from what you’d thought of as a TV show in the matrix…”

“Yeah- I remember… do you mean your story, from when you started hunting? Or-”

Sam interrupts with a shake of his head. “No, I meant earlier, with happened to Mom…”

“Yes. I know the story… I mean, I know what happened,” you correct yourself. It wasn’t a story. It was reality. Their reality. You had to stop thinking in terms of the television show.

“Okay, yeah- so you know about the kids, the couple of us who had talents?” he looked down now, catching your eyes.

“Right, you had visions…” you meet his gaze. “You still do sometimes…” you say softly. “I remember you mentioning that…”

He nods. “Yeah, yes- umm…” he stammered and raised his brows at you.

Your eyes widen. “And… I do, too?” you ask incredulously and shake your head. “Wait. No…” you scowled. “No- not visions...”

“I feel things, I know things…” you start to recall that feeling- the one where you knew stuff about people… even in the matrix, you felt it- the difference, the  _weirdness_  of it…

Sam rubbed your back lightly. “It’s okay…” he tells you gently. “You don’t need to push yourself…”

“No…” you press your fingers to your temples, closing your eyes tightly. “No- I need to remember…” you force yourself to concentrate on that intangible glimmer in your mind. Sam grabs some tissue, pushing it into your hand when your nose starts to bleed.

“Empath… I’m an empath. I can feel things from people. Demon blood increases the latent talent and allows me to push…” your eyes fly open and you look up at Sam.

“Oh, god… Sammy…” your breath catches in your throat.

“Hey, hey… <y/n>, stop… honey, please- it’s okay, it was a long time ago…”

“Sammy- I hurt people…” you choke on a sob.

 

* * *

 

“No. No, you didn’t…” Dean’s voice broke into the conversation. You whip your head around to look at him.

“B-but…” you stammered out. Dean moved across the room, reaching your side in a few long strides. He glared at Sam.

“Good goin’,” he snaps under his breath to his brother.

“No buts,” he tells you, reaching for your hand, pulling you to him. “You didn’t hurt anyone. The demon did. It used you… and you fought it, and you got away from it… It wasn’t you that hurt anyone,” he growled, tucking you into his chest. “It wasn’t you, baby…”

He brushes your hair back from your face, holding your chin so you have to look at him.

“It. Wasn’t. You.” he said emphatically. “Understand?”

You nod, as best you can with his fingers gripping your jaw and swallow hard against the tears threatening to fall.

“Understood,” you breathe out, fighting to control your emotions. Dean’s look softens as he runs his thumb over your cheek, catching a stray tear.

“Good,” he leans over, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “There’s no crying in baseball,” he teases, using a movie line to snap you out of your sadness.

You sniffle, giving him a watery smile. “Oh, god… right- no chick flick moments…” you try to laugh, wiping at your face.

You hear him sigh as he holds you tighter. “There ya go…”

 

* * *

 

Sam watches as his brother holds on to you, and clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he tells you when you look over at him.

“No, Sammy. It’s alright. I wanted to know… I need to know these things,” you tell him, and then look up at Dean.

“I need to know,” you repeat, knowing Dean wanted to protect you from the bad memories. He scowls slightly, squeezing your shoulders.

“What else did you want to know?” he asks gruffly, agreeing in his own way to help you remember.

Sam sits back down on the couch and you move next to him, tugging Dean down beside you.

“My family?” you ask softly. “I had pictures, texts- things like that on my phone, when I was in the matrix- but now, nothing… they’re all gone,” you look up and see the brothers exchange glances.

“They are gone, aren’t they? It wasn’t real. I don’t have anyone here…” you frown.

“That’s not true,” Sam grasps your hand. “You have us- you’ve always had us…”

“No- I know, I didn’t mean that,” you shake your head. “But my mom and dad,” you try concentrating…

“They died, in a house fire,” you remember. “When I was a baby… but then- where did I go? Who raised me? I don’t remember my family…”

Dean takes your other hand, threading his fingers into yours. “You told us that you were adopted by a family…”

“You had happy memories,” Sam agreed.

You sigh heavily. “I don’t remember…” you start to say, but then stop. “Were? Had?” you look between them. “What happened to them?”

Sam shakes his head. “Demons… sent by Azazel- they got to your family,” he tells you gently. “You told us all of this- it happened before we ever met you…”

“Nobody believed me,” you remember flashes of images. Stark white walls, nurses and doctors…

“They thought I was crazy… I was locked up in a facility, just like in the matrix,” you scoff in disbelief. “The Trickster wanted me to think I was crazy, again…”

“You were  _never_ crazy,” Dean tells you once again. “Not then, not now, not ever,” he scowls, squeezing your hand.

You get the distinct feeling that Dean would rip apart anyone who called you insane. He wouldn’t tolerate it- not even from you.

“No. I’m not,” you agree, leaning back on his shoulder. “And I’m going to kill the bastard for trying to make me think I was…”

You feel Dean’s lips against your temple. “You’ll have to get in line,” he tells you. “After I’m done, there won’t be much left.”

“Leave some for me,” Sam adds.

“My boys,” you smile at them both, grasping their hands. “My protectors.”

“Don’t ever forget that,” Dean tells you quietly.

 

* * *

 

You sit in front of the weapons that are spread out on the desk, taking apart and cleaning some of the guns. After you finish the third, you look up at Dean.

“You satisfied yet, Master Sargent? I’m telling you, I remember this part of it. I  _know_  the guns, I remember my training, and I  _know_  how to fight…”

Although a nagging feeling pushed in the back of your mind. You couldn’t remember  _how_   you knew all this…

He just grunts and moves away from the table, leaving you to cast a baleful look towards Sam.

“A little help here?” you ask.

“Dean- she’s right. She knew every answer to all the questions you shot at her, and can handle a weapon as easily as ever…”

“What about hand to hand? How do I know you aren’t going to get your ass kicked-” Dean started and you quickly move around the table to stand before him.

“I  _remember_ ,” you glare at him. “Try me…”

Dean raises a brow mockingly. Sam just shakes his head and groans.

“Don’t hurt him too badly <y/n>,” Sammy teases, making you smirk at Dean.

“Bring it on, Batman…” you tell him in a singsong voice, circling around him slowly, taunting him.

“Riiiggght,” he rolls his eyes, but makes a grab for you.

Sidestepping his reach, you turn, catching his wrist and twisting his arm into his back.

“See? I remember. I’ve still got it,” you tell him from behind his shoulder.

“Is that so?” he comments, turning quickly and shoving you back towards the mats in the makeshift gym. “Come at me again,” he tests you.

You circle once more, watching him pivot, keeping you at his front.

“Well? What are you waiting for <y/n>? An open invitation?” he goads you into slipping up.

You decide surprise would be your best action and run straight at him. Dean’s face looks shocked as you jump at him, the comical look makes you start laughing.

Dean feels the air rush out of his lungs as the momentum drives him backwards and he lands hard on the mats.

“Ooof,” he breathes out as you press your knees against his arms, pinning him down.

“Gotcha,” you wink, leaning over him with a grin.

“Yeah…” he tries to flip you off of him but you adjust your leverage to hold him in place.  

Dean’s eyes widen and he stops struggling quickly when you sit back onto his hips.

“Should’ve cleaned the pipes,” he mutters.

“What?” you ask innocently, your grin widening.

“Nothing,” he sees your smirk. “Shut up,” he wrinkles his nose at you. “Bitch…”

“Idiot…” you lean forward and kiss the wrinkle, not even realizing the taunt had slipped out instead ‘jerk”…

He smiles back up at you, planting his lips on yours…

“I’m the luckiest man in the world, when you call me an ‘idiot’,” he smiled.

…and he quickly flips you under him while you’re distracted.

“Gotcha,” he grins, pinning you under his hips.

“Cheater,” you lift your hips up to push him off until you see him wiggle his eyebrows at you, making you giggle.

“Geez, you two, get a room,” Sam snarks, tossing a cleaning rag over at you both. It lands on Dean’s head, covering half his face.

Reaching up to grasp the edges, you pull him closer to you, snagging another quick kiss.

“So… I’m hunting, right?” you ask him when he starts to kiss you back.

“You play dirty pool,” he tells you, nipping at your lips.

“Mmm-hmm. I learned from some of the best,” you remind him, letting your arms wrap around his neck. Again that feeling nags at your mind. Something you should know-  _someone_  you should remember…

“Right,” Dean huffs, pressing his lips hard over yours once more before pulling away. Sitting back on his knees, he pulls you into his lap.

“You’re hunting,” he allows, with a caveat. “But you stick close to me and Sammy, ya hear? No going out of our sight, not even for a second,” he demands. “This bastard is gunning for you, and I’m not letting it get you back…”

Sam watched his brother’s face, seeing the worry in his eyes. “It’s not going to get her again Dean. We are more prepared this time… we know that it’s coming for her, and we have a way to kill it…”

Dean looked towards the daggers that were now dipped in some of your blood. It had been a whole morning’s argument with him to allow you to cut yourself to add your blood onto the stakes. You nudge him now as he stares at the weapons.

“It had to be me,” you remind him. “Last victim, remember?” you wiggle your fingers in front of his face.

Dean grabs your hand and checks the bandage across your palm. “Still bleeding?” he asks gruffly.

“No, tiger- I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt…” you tell him as he begins unwrapping the cut to inspect it himself.

“Dean,” you sigh and roll your eyes.

“Shut up,” he ground out. “I’ve got a right to worry over you,” he snaps.

You move your hand over to touch his cheek, bringing his eyes to yours.

“I love you too… idiot,” you tell him with a smirk.

He bites back a sarcastic grin at your comment, glancing towards where Sam was now engrossed in looking at a map.

Dean leaned over, kissing the cut on your palm before rewrapping it. When he straightens back up, you run your thumb across his lips and he closes his eyes with a sigh.

_Shy_ … you remind yourself.  _He’s sweet and sort of shy_ …  _even with all of his bravado_.

“You’re the one who keeps me around,” he reminds you, holding you tightly.

“Hmm, you got me there,” you laugh. “I guess you amuse me…”

“Amuse you?” he retorts. “I’ll give ya…”

You squeal as Dean stands up quickly, lifting you off your feet and swinging you up over his shoulder. He swats your ass playfully, spinning you around.

“Say uncle!” he tells you over the sound of your laughter.

“Never!” you yelp, slapping at his back in return. He carries you over beside Sam.

“Free shot!” he tells his brother.

“Don’t you-” your protest is cut off by Sam’s laugh as he smacks you too… “…dare! Ugh! I’ll get you both back!” you threaten amidst giggles.

Dean sets you back to the floor, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, holding you back against him. His body is still relaxed and you can feel the laughter shaking in his chest.

“Dicks,” you call then both, leaning back on Dean.

“Jerk,” Sam picks his head up to meet your eyes with a grin.

“Bitch,” Dean throws in.

You recall doing this, many times before. “Hey- that’s my ‘thing’,” you exclaim, excited at remembering. “I have a ‘thing’!” you chuckle.

“Actually, we have the ‘things’, that’s why we are the dicks,” Dean snarks.

“He’s not wrong…” Sam adds with a laugh. “You are remembering…” this comes out more as a statement than a question.

“Yeah… a little more, all the time…” you state. You close your eyes, bringing up another memory. “I don’t sit in the back… In Baby, I mean. I don’t take the backseat…” you mention, opening your eyes and looking at them.

Dean agrees by shaking his head. “No, not usually. You just started doing that since you woke up…”

“Huh. I wondered why it felt weird. I usually sit in between you two, in the front. And annoy you by touching the radio,” you grin up at Dean.

“Always,” he smirks. “And I’ll still grab your hand to stop you…”

“Yeah, right, that’s why you hold her hand,” Sam teases his brother. Dean scowls.

“Shut up, bitch…”

“Jerk…”

“Dicks…” you laugh again. You feel Dean hug you tighter.

_God, how I love these boys_ , you think to yourself.

 

* * *

 

 

Tension fills the air around you as you sit in the front seat between the brothers, heading towards the town where the signs indicated the Trickster was hiding.

When Dean pulls into the parking lot at a shabby motel and cuts off the engine, he turns slightly in the seat, looking down at you.

“If things start to go sideways- even a little…” he starts in on you as soon as Sam gets out of the car.

“Then I cut and run… we’ll meet up at the first motel in the phone book. I got it, Dean. Stop worrying…”

“I can’t,” he frowns. “It’s my job.”

“I thought your job was hunting things?” you remind him. He scoffs.

“Secondly. First job- Saving people... that means protecting you and Sam,” he states.

He looks in the rearview mirror, watching as Sam grabs the duffel from the trunk and heads to the office to get them a room. The anxiety is rolling off of him in waves and making you twitchy.

“Dean, please- your worrying is making me crazy,” you warn him.

“Then stop reading me,” he snaps. His eyes catch yours as soon as he hears his tone.

“Crap. Sorry,” he mutters.

“Me too. But I can’t help it. I don’t remember how to shut it off,” you complain. “This empath thing is a total pain in the ass…”

Dean sighs, looping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side. You feel his lips press against your temple. He takes a deep breath and you can literally  _feel_  some of the tension leave him.

“Wow. Okay, that’s weird,” you mention.

“What?” he asks, his breath traveling over the side of your face. You turn a little more so you are looking up at him.

“Just, humor me…” you tell him, reaching up to touch his cheek. You kiss him lightly, and feel the change in the air around him. He relaxes almost immediately.

_Nice_ … you think, giving him a smile. Dean clears his throat.

“Right, okay,” he breathes out a tense breath. “I see what you did there,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours.

“I didn’t do anything…” you tell him. “That’s all you.”

He glances at your lips, leaning in again for another kiss. Then another…

…and the tension begins to change into something else.

“Whoops,” you giggle, placing your hand against his chest and pushing him back a little. “Easy, tiger…”

Dean groans.

“Why don’t you go get us our own room,” you mention casually, as you move away from him, sliding out from the passenger’s side door. You look back in to catch the look on his face.

His eyes widen and he whips his head around to look at you.

“What?”

“You heard me,” you smirk as you slam the door.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean tosses your bag on the bed with his and flops to sit down beside them. He throws the room key on the table, avoiding looking at you.

“Uh, you- we, I mean… um…” he scrunches up his face in concentration. “You didn’t have to do this…” he stammers out.

From under your lashes, you study him as you pull some clothes out of your bag. You see him facepalm and curse at himself, while you bite back a laugh.

“Oh, I think I do,” you smile instead, abandoning the bag to stand in front of him. Touching his chin lightly, you bring his eyes up to meet yours.

“You want to take care of me, protect me… Let me take care of you, for once,” you tell him, your voice turning husky.

He swallows hard, making his throat move at his neck. The tense look in his face makes you sigh.

“I don’t know how…” he admits.

“I know,” you smile, tracing the lines at the corners of his eyes. “I remember…”

Leaning towards him, you brush your lips over the furrow between his brows. “I also remember how to make you forget,” you tell him, letting your breath fan over his face. He breathes in deeply, closing his eyes, letting himself fall into your touch.

“Make me forget…” he whispers, opening his eyes once again to look into yours. “Please…”

You meet his lips in a kiss, holding his face in your hands, using your thumbs to stroke his cheeks and down his jaw, erasing the tension there.

Dean’s soft moan fills your ears as his lips part, inviting you to take the kiss deeper.

“My sweet boy,” you say as you run your hand over his hair, keeping him close.

“I’m not either… I’m not sweet and I am no boy,” he tells you, pulling back and scowling up into your eyes.

“Hmm. For me you are…” you respond, still running your hand through his hair. “You can drop the armor with me, love. I  _know_  you…”

Dean squirmed a bit in front of you, looking down, away from your eyes.

“You promised- before… always- you promised you wouldn’t read me…” he pouted slightly. Your soft chuckle brings his eyes back to yours.

“I’m not reading you, Dean. I don’t have to… I just, know you,” you repeat. “Reading you, like before when you were so tense- I can’t remember how to stop that- but I will. I’ll get it back under control, I promise. But right now? I’m not ‘reading’ you. But I feel the difference in you, when it’s just us. You let a guard down… it’s not me pulling it down.”

Wrapping his arms around your waist, Dean pulls you over onto his lap. His head settles on your shoulder and you hold him close.

“It’s okay, love…” you say as you press a kiss to his brow. “I can keep a secret,” you tease a little, earning a slight smile from him.

“Yeah, uh, I guess you can,” he shakes his head, hugging you tight. “Managed to keep it this long,” he mumbles against your throat. You feel his lips at your neck.

“Mmm. So, everyone who knows we are together… they think… what?”

Dean shrugged, looking away from your eyes again. “I don’t know, uh, friends with benefits type thing I guess,” he mentions. “We just let them think whatever they want. It doesn’t matter, I mean- you’ve said it didn’t matter what anyone else thought…”

You hear something in his voice but choose to ignore it for the moment.

“Sam knows though,” he says. “We couldn’t keep it from him…”

“No,” you shake your head. “And I wouldn’t want to, either. He’s my best friend…”

“So am I,” Dean scowls, his arm tightening around you. You laugh lightly.

“Yes, my possessive beast,” you tell him with a quick kiss.

“There you go- that’s better than ‘sweet boy’,” he scoffs, reaching for your lips once more. He frowns when you pull back from him.

“To me, you are both,” you touch his cheek, leaning your forehead against his. “You are the fierce warrior, the strong shoulders, the brave brother and the protective man- all at once…”

“But I also know you are the sweet boy, the kind lover and the gentle heart. You don’t hide that from me…” you meet his lips for a passionate kiss, trying to put all of your memories and emotions into the link.

The kiss burns between you both, igniting a fire that heats your blood.

“Oh god,” he growls softly, his fingers digging into your back as he pulls you closer. “<y/n>… Please- I need you… please.”

 

* * *

 

Dean watches as she steps back from him, the loss of her warmth from his arms making him shiver. She turns, removing her shirt, and he swallows against the dryness in his mouth, the sight of her body leaving him speechless. 

_Never, even if he lived forever, would another woman affect him like she did,_  he thinks to himself.

His heart hammers against his ribs and he stands, moving closer, wanting to touch her. Needing to… it wasn’t even a matter of want at this point.

“Baby… do you, um, remember us? Being together?” he asks uncomfortably. “How we got to be a couple?”

She shakes her head ‘no’ and he sighs heavily.

“Awesome,” Dean scowls, looking away from her.

“I’ll remember,” she tells him. “But for now, we can make new memories,” she breathes out the offer huskily.

Dean stiffens, afraid to accept. “I don’t want to take advantage of you, <y/n> and if you don’t remember some things- some of the stuff that happened before we got together… I think I would be,” he stammers out.

 

* * *

 

You feel the heartbreak in his admission. Something bad had happened that you couldn’t remember and it was twisting him up inside.

“Dean. I know I love you. Don’t doubt that… I’ve carried that with me through a lifetime in an alternate universe… so don’t think for a second that a single memory would change that fact.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “No… I can’t- it’s not fair to you. You might change your mind, once you know…”

“I didn’t change my mind before I lost my memories,” you remind him. “I was still with you, when the Trickster stole my life.”

The way he looks at you hurts your heart. You rub at the ache absently, pressing your hand between your breasts.

“Dean… stop. You are scaring me,” you say. “If it’s bothering you that much, just tell me what it was, so we can put it behind us. Just give me a clue- I’ll try to remember…”

“No.” he says again. “You’ll remember… and then you can make your choices from there,” he scowls. He reaches out for you, running his hand over your skin, his eyes following his hands as if memorizing you.

“But- I just… ah,” he blushes slightly and the sight endears him to your heart. “Um, I just want to hold you and not think- I want to keep you close tonight… alright? Would you mind?” he asks.

“Mind?” you stare blankly at him for a moment and shake your head in disbelief. “No, Dean. I don’t mind…”

He pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly, stroking your back. He kisses your hair and inhales deeply, breathing in your scent.

“I’ve missed this,” he says softly. “I’ve missed holding you… talking to you,” his voice resonates under your ear, sounding rough.

“I have too,” you mention, pushing him back onto the bed and sprawling out alongside him. You snuggle in against his side as his arm curls around you. “I missed this even when I had no idea what I’d been missing.”

Dean pulls the blanket around you both, tucking you into him. You drop your head on his chest and listen to his breathing.

And it feels like the world had suddenly gone right for once.

“Sing for me, Dean…” you say softly as you reach your hand under his shirt, running your fingers across his muscles. They twitch under your touch and you hear him drag in a steadying breath.

He starts to sing quietly and you can hear a song that you had heard him sing many times before, in that alternate world. You just had no idea he’d been actually singing it to you all this time…

“ _I can feel her heartbeat, from a thousand miles. And the heavens open, every time she smiles. I’m runnin’ to her, that’s where I belong. I’m runnin’ to her, like a river’s song…. She gives me love, love, love crazy love. She gives me love, love, love crazy love.  She’s got a fine sense of humor, when I’m feelin’ down, I’m runnin’ to her, when the sun goes down… She takes away my troubles, she takes away my grief… she takes away my heartache, and I go right to sleep…”_

Listening to his voice, you drift off…

 

* * *

 

“So you’re just going to let her worry about what the hell it is that she isn’t remembering?!” Sam shouted at Dean the next morning as they packed their bags back into the trunk. “Do you think that’s more fair?”

Dean scowled darkly at his brother. He’d been expecting the argument ever since Sam had seen the look on <y/n>’s face over breakfast that morning. His brother had immediately known something was bothering her.

Sometimes Dean wondered if they shared some sort of weird mind-meld thing since they both carried the demon blood.

_Hell, maybe in that way, she really was Sam’s sister_ , Dean’s brow furrowed with the thought. It wasn’t like there any others left around to test the theory. <Y/N> had only escaped Azazel by wits and will, along with some plain luck...

The brothers only knew from her own telling that she’d managed to break herself free from the mental facility after meeting a hunter who had tracked her down, looking for information about the yellow eyed demon...

Once she found out that she  _wasn’t_ crazy- monsters  _did_ exist- she had hidden away with another hunter, learning and training with him for years before the brothers had met up with her…

Dean stopped his line of thinking, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.

“Sammy, she’s got a right to remember- on her own- without my interpretation or yours clouding her feelings,” Dean told his brother.

“You still think she wouldn’t choose you,” Sam scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You think she shouldn’t…” he shakes his head. “Dean- are you ever going to cut yourself even the tiniest break?” he asked.

Dean slammed the trunk and looked over to where she was coming out of the office after checking out. Watching her move across the lot, he felt a twist in his chest.

“Probably not, Sam…” he muttered as she reached their side.

Sam noticed when his brother reached for her arm to help her into the car, his fingers brushed lightly over the long pale scar that rode on her bicep.

A heavy sigh left his lungs. If killing the Trickster didn’t get <y/n> her memories back, Sam would help her remember, whether Dean liked the idea or not. He wasn’t going to let his brother push her away because of some twisted idea he had of self-punishment…

Sam slid into the passenger seat, bumping up against her, nudging her with his shoulder. She bumped him back and grinned.

“You ready to take this bitch down?” she asked, her eyes now full of excitement and mischief.

Sam laughed. She was like the female version of Dean, eyes lighting up like a kid at Christmas that the thought of ganking something...

“Abso-fuckin-lutely,” Dean said, shoving one of the cassettes into the deck, letting Metallica blare loudly around them. He pulled out of the lot heading towards where they’d determined the signs showed activity for a Trickster.

Dean grabbed your hand, threading his fingers through yours. You glance down at your forearms, seeing the ink on your skin match up to his, creating a heart as he held your hand this way. You squeeze his hand tightly and he picks yours up to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles almost absently.

Smiling, you drop your head against his shoulder and listen to him belt out the lyrics off key, on purpose... Sam shakes his head and laughs, joining him in the mutilation of the song, just to annoy you.

You plug your ears and grin at the both of them like a lunatic, knowing that no matter what, there was no place you’d rather be, than right there, with them.

Your family.


End file.
